Volume 2 — The Palace of Pleasure. (continued 3)

THE EIGHTH NOUELL.

The cruelty of a Kynge of Macedone who forced a gentlewoman called Theoxena, to persuade hir children to kill and poison themselves: after which fact, she and hir husband Poris ended their lyfe by drowninge.

Bvt now we haue beegon to treate of the stoutnesse of certayne noble Queenes, I wyll not let also to recite the Hystory of a lyke vnfearfull dame of Thessalian land, called Theoxena, of right noble Race, the Daughter of Herodicus Prynce of that Countrey in the tyme that Phillip the Sonne of Demetrius was kynge of Macedone, tolde also by Titus Liuius, as two of the former be. Thys Lady Theoxena, first was a notable example of piety and vertue and afterwardes of rigorous cruelty: for the sayd kyng Philip, hauinge through his wickednesse first murdred Herodicus, and by succession of time cruelly done to death also the husbands of Theoxena and of Archo hir naturall sister, vnto eyther of them being Wydowes remayninge a Sonne: afterwardes Archo being maryed agayne to one of the principall of their Countrey named Poris, of him she had many children. But when she was dead, the sayd Lady Theoxena hir sister, who was of heart more constant and stout than the other, still refused the second mariage, although sued vnto by many great Lordes and Princes: at length pityinge her nephewes state, for fere they should fall into the handes of some cruell Stepdame, or that theyr father would not bryng them vp with sutch diligence, as tyll that tyme they were, was contented to bee espoused agayne to Poris, (no lawe that time knowen to defend the same) to the intente she might trayne vp hir sister’s children as her owne. That done she began (as if they were hir owne) to intreate and vse them louingly, with great care and industrie: wherby it manifestly appeared that she was not maried againe to Poris for hir owne commodity and pleasure, but rather for the wealth and gouernement of those hir sister’s children. Afterwards Philip king of Macedone, an vnquiet Prince, determininge to make newe warres vpon the Romanes (then throughout the worlde famous and renouned for theyr good fortune) exiled not onely the chiefe and noble men, but almost al the auncient inhabitants of the Cities along the sea coaste of Thessalia, and theyr whole and entier families into Pæonia afterwards called Emathia, a Countrey farre distant from the sea, giuing their voided Cities for the Thracians to inhabite, as most propre and faithful for the Romains warres, which he intended to make: and hearinge also the cursses and maledictions pronounced against him by the banished people, and vniuersally by al other, thought he was in no good surety, if he caused not likewyse all the sonnes of them, whom a litle before he had slayne, to be put to Death. Wherefore he commaunded them to be taken and holden vnder good gard in prison, not to do them al to be slain at once, but at times now one and then an other, as occasion serued. Theoxena vnderstanding the edicte of this wicked and cruell king, and wel remembring the death of hir husband, and of him that was husband to hir sister, knew wel that hir sonne and nephew incontinently should be demaunded, and greatly fearinge the king’s wrath, and the rigour of his guard, if once they fell into theyr hands, to defend them from shame and cruelty, sodainly applied hir minde vnto a straunge deuice: for shee durst to saye vnto hir husband their father’s face, that soner she would kil them with hir owne handes, if otherwise she coulde not warraunt them, then suffer them to bee at the will and power of kinge Philip. By reason wherof Poris abhorring so execrable cruelty, to comfort his wife and to saue hys Chyldren, promysed hyr secretelye to transporte them from thence, and caryed them himselfe to certayne of hys faythfull Fryendes at Athens, whych done wythoute longe delaye, hee made as thoughe hee woulde goe from Thessalonica to Aenias, to bee at the Solemnytye of certayne Sacrifices, which yearelye at an appoynted tyme was done wyth greate ceremonies to the honour of Ænêas the founder of that Citty, where spendinge the time amonges other in solemne bankets, the thrirde watch of the night when euery man was a sleepe, as though he would haue returned home to his countrey with his wyfe and children, priuely embarked himselfe and them, in a ship hired of purpose to passe into Euboea, and not to retourne to Thessalonica. But his intent was cleane altered and chaunged, for his ship was no sooner vnder saile, but at that instant a contrary winde and tempest rose, that brought him back againe, in despite of their labour, and all the endeuour they were able to doe. And when daye lighte appeared, the king’s garrison descried that shippe, and manned out a boate, to bring in the same, which secretly they thoughte was about to escape away, giuing them straight charge, that by no meanes they should returne without hir. When the boate drew neare the shippe, Poris bent him self to encourage the mariners to hoyse vp saile againe, and to make way with their oares into the Sea, if it were possible, to auoide the imminent and present daunger, to saue the life of him selfe, his wife and children: then hee lyfted hys handes vp vnto the heauens to implore the helpe and succor of the Gods, which the stoute Gentlewoman Theoxena perceiuing, and manifestly seeing the Daunger wherein they were, callinge to hir minde hir former determinate vengeance which she ment to do, and beholding Poris in his prayers, she prosecuted hir intente, preparing a poysoned drink in a cuppe, and made readye naked swordes: al which bringing forth before the Childrens face, she spake these words: “Death alone must bee the reuenge of your siely liues, wherunto there be two wayes, poison or the sworde. Euery of you choose which ye list to haue: or of whether of them your heart shall make the frankest choice. The king’s cruelty and pride you must auoid. Wherfore deare children be of good chere, raise vp your noble courage: ye the elder aged boyes, shew now your selues like men, and take the sword into your handes to pierce your tender hearts: but if the bloudy smart of that most dreadfull death shal feare and fright your greene and vnripe age, then take the venomed cup, and gulpe by sundry draghtes this poisoned drinke. Be franke and lusty in this your destened Death, sith the violence of Fortune, by Sea, doeth let the lengthning of your life. I craue this requeste of choyse, and let not the same rebound with fearfull refuse of thys my craued hest. Your mother afterwardes shal pass that strayght, whereof she prayeth hir babes to bee the poastes: ye the vaunt currours, and shee, with your louing sire, shall end and finishe Philip’s rage bent agaynst vs.” When shee had spoken these woordes and sawe the enimies at hand, this couragious dame, the deuiser of the death, egged and prouoked these yong trembling children (not yet wel resolued what to do) with her encharmed woords in sutch wyse, as in the ende, some dranke the poyson, and other strake them selues into the body and by hir commaundement were throwen ouer boord, not altogether dead, and so she set them at liberty by death whom tenderly she had brought vp. Then she imbracing hir husband the companion of hir death, both did voluntarily throw themselues also into the sea: And when the kinge’s espials were come aborde the ship, they found the same abandoned of theyr praye. The cruelty of which fact did so moue the common people to detestatyon and hatred of the kinge, as a generall cursse was pronounced against him and his children, which heard of the Gods aboue was afterwardes terribly reuenged vpon his stocke and posterity. Thys was the end of good Poris and his stout wyfe Theoxena, who rather then she would fall into the lapse of the king’s furie, as hir father Herodicus, and hir other husbande did, chose violently to dye with hir own hands, and to cause hir husband’s children and hir owne, to berieue them selues of Lyfe, whych although agaynst the louinge order of naturall course, and therefore that kinde of violence to bee abhorred, as horrible in it self, yet a declaration of a stout mind, if otherwise she had ben able to reuenge the same. And what coward heart is that, that dare not vpon such extremity, when it seeth the mercilesse ennimy at hand, with shining blade ready bent, to stryke the blowe, that withoute remedye must ridde the same of breath, specially when it beholdeth the tremblyng babe, naturally begotten by hys owne kinde and nature, before the face imploryng father’s rescue, what dastarde heart dare not to offer himselfe, by singular fight (thoughe one to twentye) either by desperate hardinesse to auoyd the same, or other anoyance, aduenture what he can? which in Christians is admitted as a comely fight, rather than wyth that Pagane Dame to do the death it selfe. But now returne wee to describe a fact that passeth al other forced deedes. For Theoxena was compelled in a maner thus to do of meere constraint to eschue the greater torments of a tyrant’s rage and thought it better by chosen death to chaunge hir lyfe, than by violent hands of bloudy Butchers to be haled to the slaughter. But thys Hidrusian dame was weary of hir owne life, not for that she feared losse of lyfe, but desperate to think of Fortune’s fickle staye: whych if fortune’s darlings would regarde in time, they would foresee theyr slippery holde.

THE NYNTH NOUELL.

A straunge and maruellous vse, which in old time was obserued in Hidrvsa, where it was lawfull, with the licence of a magistrate ordayned for that purpose, for euery man, and woman that list, to kill them selues.

Bandello amonges the company of hys Nouels, telleth this history: and in his own person speaketh these words. If I should begin to tell those things which I saw in the tyme that I sayled alongs the Leuant seas, very tedious it would be for you to heare, and I in reporting could not tell which way to ende, bicause I saw and heard thynges ryght worthy to bee remembred. Notwythstandinge, for satisfaction of dyuers that be my frendes, I will not sticke to reherse some of them. But first of all one straunge custome, whych in the Romayes tyme was vsed in one of the Ilandes of the sea Ægeum, called Hidrusa, in these dayes by the trauaylers called Cea or Zea, and is one of the Ilandes named Ciclades, whilome full of Populous and goodly Cities, as the ruins therof at this day do declare. There was in olde time in that Iland a yery straunge lawe and ordynaunce, which many hundred yeares was verye well and perfectly kept and observed. The Law was, that euery person inhabitant within the sayd Isle, of what sexe and condition so euer, being throughe age, infirmity, or other accidents, weary of their lyfe, might choose what kind of death that liked them best: howbeit it was prouyded that the partye, before the dooing of the same, should manifest the cause that moued him therevnto, before the Magistrate elected by the people for that speciall purpose, which they constituted because they sawe that diuers persons had voluntarily killed themselues vpon trifling occasions and matters of little importance: according to whiche lawe very many Men and Women, hardily with so merry chere went to theyr Death, as if they had gone to some bankette or mariage. It chaunced that Pompeius Magnus the dreadfull Romane, betwene whom and Iulius Cæsar were fought the greatest battailes for superiority that euer were, sailing by the Sea Ægeum, arriued at Hidrusa, and there goynge a land vnderstoode of the inhabitantes the maner of that law and how the same day a woman of great worship had obteined licence of the Magistrate to poyson hir selfe. Pompeius hearing tell hereof, was driuen into great admiration, and thought it very straunge, that a woman which al the dayes of hir life had liued in great honour and estimation, shoulde vpon light cause or occasion poyson her selfe sith it was naturally giuen to ech breathyng wyght to prolong theyr liuing dayes with the longest threede that Atropos could draw out of dame Nature’s webbe. Whervpon he commaunded the said matrone to be brought before hym, whose Death for hir vertue was generallye lamented by the whole Countrye. When the gentlewoman was before hym, and had vnderstanding that she was fully resolued and determined to dye, hee began by greate persuasions to exhort hir, that she should not wilfully cast hir selfe away, vpon consideration that she was of lusty yeares, riche and welbeloued of the whole countrey: and how greate pitye it were but shee shoulde renue hir Mynde and gyue hir selfe still to lyue and remayne, till Natural course dyd ende and finysh hir life: howbeit his graue and earnest persuasion could not diuert hir from hir intended purpose. But Pompeius loth to haue hir dye, ceassed not styll to prosecute hys former talke with newe reasons and stronger arguments. All which shee paciently heard with fixed countenaunce, til at lengthe with cleare voyce and smiling cheere she answered him in this maner: “You be greatly deceyued (my lord Pompeius) if you do beleeue that I wythout very great prouidence and mature aduise goe about to ende my dayes: for I do know and am fully persuaded, that eche creature naturally craueth the prolongation and lengthninge of lyfe, and so mutch abhoreth to die, as the desirous to lyue detesteth the poyson whych I haue prepared for consumation of my lyfe. Whereupon as I haue diuers times thought, considered and discoursed with my selfe, and amongs many considerations oftentimes debated in my minde, there came into the same the instability and fickle change of Fortune, whose whirling wheele neuer ceasseth, ne yet remayneth stedfast. It is dayly seene how she doth exalte and aduaunce some man from the lowest and bottomlesse Pit, euen to the top of high Heauens, endowinge him with so mutch Substaunce as he can desire. An other that was most happy, honoured in this world lyke a God, vnto whom no goods and welfare were wantinge, who might wel haue bene called in his lyfe, a three times happy and blessed wyght, sodaynly from his honour and state depriued and made a very poore man and begger. Some man also, that is both riche and lusty, accompanied with a fayre wyfe and goodly Children, lyuinge in great mirth and ioylity, this wicked Lady Fortune, the deuourer of all our contentations, depriueth from the inestimable treasure of health, causeth the fayre Wyfe to loue an other better than hir husbande, and with hir venomous Tooth biteth the children, that in short space myserable death catcheth them al within his dreadfull Clouches whereby he is defrauded of those children, whom after his death he purposed to leaue for hys Heyres. But what meane I to consume tyme and words in declaration of Fortune’s vnsteady stay, which is more cleare than the beams of the Sunne, of whom dayly a Thousande thousande examples be manifest: all histories be full of theym. The mighty countrey of Græcia doth render ample witnesse wherein so many excellent men were bred and brought vp: who desirous with their finger to touch the highest heauen, were in a moment throwen downe: and so many famous Cities, which gouerned numbers of people, now at this present day we see to be thrall and obedient to thy City of Rome. Of these hurtfull and perillous mutations (O noble Pompeius) thy Romane City may be a most cleare glasse and Spectacle, and a multitude of thy noble Citizens in tyme past and present, may geeue plentifull witnesse. But to come to the cause of this my death, I say, that fyndyng myself to haue liued these many yeares (by what chaunce I can not tell) in very great prosperity, in al which tyme I neuer did suffer any one myssehappe, but styll from good to better, haue passed my time vntil thys daye: nowe fearyng the frownynge of Ladye Fortune’s face, and that she will repente hir long continued fauour, I feare, I say, least the same Fortune should chaung hir stile, and begynne in the middest of my pleasaunt life to sprinckle hir poysoned bitternesse, and make mee the Receptacle and Quiuer of hir sharpe and noysome arrowes. Wherefore I am nowe determined by good aduyse, to rid my selfe from the captivity of hir force, from all hir misfortunes, and from the noysom and grieuous infirmities, which miserably be incident to vs mortall Creatures: and beleeue me (Pompeius) that many in theyr aged dayes haue left their life with little honour, who had they bene gone in their youth, had dyed Famous for euer. Wherefore (my lord Pompeius) that I may not be tedious vnto thee, or hinder thyne affayres by long discourse, I besech thee to geeue me leaue to follow my deliberate disposition, that frankely and freely I may be vnburdened of all daunger: for the longer the life doth grow, to the greater annoysaunce and daunger it is subiect.” When she had so sayd, to the great admiration and compassion of all those which were present, with tremblinge handes and fearefull cheare, she quaffed a great Cup of poysoned drynke, the which she brought with hir for that purpose, and within a while after dyed. This was the straunge vse, and order obserued in Hidrusa. Which good counsel of the Dame had the noble and valiaunt captayne followed, no doubt he would haue bin contented to haue bin brought to order: and then he had not lost that bloudy battel atchieued agaynst hym by Iulius Cæsar at Pharsalia in Ægypt. Then hee had not sustayned so many ouerthrowes as he did, then had hee not ben forsaken of his frendes, and in the ende endured a death so miserable. And for so mutch as for the most part hitherto we haue intreated of many Tragicall and bloudy chaunces, respyring now from those, let vs a little touch some medicinable remedies for loue, some lessons for gouernment and obedience, some treaties of amorous Dames, and hauty Gestes of Prynces, Queenes and other persons, to variate the chaungeable diet, wherewyth dyuers bee affected, rellishinge their Stomackes wyth some more pleasaunt Digestions than they haue tasted.

THE TENTH NOUELL.

The dishonest Loue of Favstina the Empresse, and with what remedy the same loue was remoued and taken away.

True and most holy is the sentence, that the Lady, Gentlewoman, or other wyght of Female kinde, of what degree or condition soeuer she be, be she fayre, fowle, or ylfauoured, cannot be endued with a more precious Pearle or Iewell, than is the neate and pure vertue of honesty: which is of sutch valour, that it alone without other vertue, is able to render her that glistereth in her attire, most famous and excellent. Be she more beautiful than Helena, be she mightier than the Amazon, better learned than Sappho, rycher than Flora, more louinge than Queene Dido, or more noble than the best Empresse and Queene of the worlde, or be she full of any other vertue, if she want the name of chast, shee is not worthy so mutch as to beare the title of honour, nor to be entertayned in honest company. Yee shall peruse hereafter an history of a Countesse of Celant, that was a passing fayre Dame, singularly adorned with Nature’s gifts. She was fayre, pleasaunt, amiable, comely, and perchaunce not altogether barrayne of good erudition and learninge: she could play vpon the instruments, sing, daunce, make and compose witty, and amorous Sonets, and the more her company was frequented, the more amiable and gracious the same was esteemed. But bicause she was unshamfast and lesse chaste, she was voyde of honest regarde. Sutch as bee dishonest, do not onely hurt themselues, but gieue cause to the common people to mutter and grudge at their parentes education, at their husbands gouernment and institution of their Children, causing them most commonly to leade a discontented and heauy lyfe. Thinke you that Augustus Cæsar (albeit he was a victorious Emperour, and led a triumphant raygne) liued a contented life when he saw the two Iuliæ, one of them his daughter, the other his Niece, to vse them selues like common strumpets, constrained through their shameful acts to pin, and close vp himselfe, shunning the conuersation of men, and once in minde to cut his Daughter’s Vaynes to let out hir Lusty bloud? Was not he wont (the teares trickling downe his Princely Face) to say, that better it was neuer to haue children and to be deade without them, than to haue a fruteful wife and children so disordred? He termed his Daughter to be a Carrion lumpe of fleshe, full of stenche and filthinesse. But if I list to speake of women of this age, from noble to vnnoble, from an Emperor’s Daughter to a Ploughman’s modder, whose liues do frame after Iulia hir lore, my pen to the stumpes would weare, and my hande be wearied with writing. And so likewise it would of numbres no doubt in these dayes that folow the trace of Lucrece line, that huswifely and chastly contriue the day and nightes in pure and Godly exercise. But of the naughty sorte to speake, (leauing to voyde offence, sutch as do flourish in our time) I will not conceale the Empresse Messalina, that was Wyfe to the emperour Claudius, not only vnworthy of Empresse degree, but of the title of Woman: who being abused by many, at length arriued to sutch abhominable lust, as not contented with dayly adulterous life, would resort to the common stewes, where the ruffians and publike harlots haunted, for little hire, and there for vilest price with eche slaue did humble herselfe: and at night not satisfied, but weared, returned home to hir Palace, not ashamed to disclose hir selfe to any that list to looke vpon hir: and for victory of that beastly game, contended with her lyke. But not to say so mutch of hir as I finde in Plinie his naturall history, in Suetonius, and Cornelius Tacitus, I leaue hir to hir selfe, bycause I haue made promise to remember the dishonest loue for example sake, which I read of Faustina, whose beauty of al Writers is vouched to be most excellent, if excellency of good life had thereunto ben coupled. She was the daughter and wyfe of two holy and vertuous Emperours, the one called Antonius Pius, the other Marcus Antonius. This M. Antonius in all vertuous workes was perfect and Godly, and singulerly loued his wife Faustina, and although she was infamous to the world, and a Fable to the people, yet he cared not for the same, sutch was the passing loue hee bare vnto hir. Leaue we to speake of hir beastly behauiour amongs the noble sort, without regard vnto hir most noble husbande, and come wee to treate of a certaine sauage kind of lust she had to one of the Gladiatores, whych were a certaine sort of Gamsters in Rome, which we terme to be Maisters of defence. She was so far in loue with this Gladiator, as she could not eat, drink, or slepe, ne take any rest. This Faustina was so vnshamefast, as not regarding hir state, being as I sayde before the daughter and wife of two most worthy Emperors, dysdayned not to submitte her Body to the Basenesse of one of the vilest sort, a Rascal Fencer, and many times would goe to Caieta, a Citie and hauen of Campania, to ioyne hir selfe with the galye slaues there. Hir husbande which loued her dearely, comfortying his feble louing wyfe so well as he coulde, caused the best Physicians he could finde, to come vnto hir for recouery of hir health. But all the deuysed physike of the world was not able to cure her, she was so louesicke. In the end knowing by long experience the fauour and loue hir husband bare vnto hir, and knowing that nothing could withdraw his continued minde, she tolde him, that al the torment and payne shee sustained, was for the loue of a gladiator, towards whom hir loue was so miserably bent, that except she had his company, death was the next medicine for hir disease. The good husband whych beyond measure loued his wife, comforted hir with so louing wordes as he could, and bad hir to bee of good cheare, promisinge hee would prouide remedy. Afterwards consulting with a wise man a Chaldee born, opened vnto him the effect of his wiue’s disease, and how she was louesicke with sutch a person one of the Gamsters of the City, promising great rewardes if he could by his secretes serche out redresse to saue hir life. The Chaldee could tel him none other remedy, but that he must cause the Gladiator to be slaine, and with the bloud of him to anoint the body of the Empresse, not telling vnto hir what the ointment was: which don, that he must goe to naked bed to hir, and do the act of matrimony. Some Historiographers do write, that the Chaldee gaue him counsell, that Faustina should drinke the bloud of the Gladiator, but the most part, that hir body was bathed in the same. But how so euer it was, it would haue cooled the hottest Gentlewoman’s stomack in the world, to be anoynted with like Salue. To conclud the Gladiator was slayne and the medicine made and applied to the Pacient, and the Emperour lay with the Empresse, and begat hir with childe. And immediatly she forgot the Gladiator, neuer after that tyme remembring him. If this medicine were applied to our carnall louinge dames (which God defend) they would not onely follow Faustina in forgetfulnes, but also would mislike hir Phisike: and not greatly regard the counsell of sutch doctours. By meanes of this medicine and copulation was the Emperour Commodus borne, who rather resembled the Gladiator than his Father: in whose breast rested a storehouse of mischyefe and vyce, as Herodian and other Wryters plentifully do wryte.

THE ELEUENTH NOUELL.

Chera hid a treasure: Elisa going about to hang her selfe, and tying the halter about a beame found that treasure, and in place thereof left the halter. Philene the daughter of Chera going for that treasure, and busily searching for the same, found the halter, wherewithal for dispayre she would haue hanged hir selfe, but forbidden by Elisa, who by chaunce espied hir, she was restored to part of hir losse, leading afterwards a happy and prosperous lyfe.

Fortune, the Lady Regent and Gouernesse of man’s lyfe, so altreth and chaungeth the state thereof, as many times we see the noble borne from that great mighty port, wherein they be, debased so farre, as either infamously their lyfe is spent in the hungry lap of Dame Penury, or else contriued in the vgly lothsom house of Wantonnesse, the stepdame of all honesty and vertue. Sometimes we marke the vnnoble ladde that was nooseled in the homely countrey caban, or rude ciuile shoppe, attaine to that whych the onely honorable and gentle do aspire: and he agayne that is ambicious in climbing vp the turning wheele, throwen down beneth the brink of aduerse luck, whelmed in the ditch and pit of black despaire. We note also sometimes that the carelesse wyght of Fortune’s giftes, hath (vnlooked for) his mouth and throte crammed full of promotion and worlde’s delights. Such is the maner of hir fickle stay: whereof this History ensuing, gyueth some intelligence, by remembring the destenied luck of 2 pore sory girles that were left destitute of desired things, both like to fal into despaire, and yet both holpen with that they most desired: which in this sort beginneth. In the time that Scipio Affricanus had besieged the City of Carthage, Chera that was a widow (dwellinge there) seeinge the daunger at hand wherein the Citty stoode, and doubtynge the losse and ouerthrowe of the same, and that the honor of the dames and womankinde, coulde vneths be safe and harmelesse, determined not to abide the vttermost: and hauinge a good quantity of Gold and precious stones, she bestowed the same in a casquet, and hid it vpon one of the beames of hir house, purposinge when the stir and daunger was past, to retourne to hir house agayne for those hir hidden things. Which done, in the habite of a poore woman with her onely daughter in hir hand that was about 5 or 6 yeares of age, she went out of Carthage, and passed ouer the Seas into Scicilia, where falling sicke, after she had bene there three or foure yeares, at length died. But before shee departed, shee called her Daughter before hir, then about Ten yeares olde, and told hir the place where she had layed hir Casket. And by reason of the victory gotten by Scipio, the city was maruellously chaunged, and amongs other things, the house of Chera was giuen to a Romane Souldiour that was so enriched with Nobilyty of Mynd, as hee was poore of Fortune’s Goods. Whych Chera vnderstandyng, was sorowfull, and doubted of hir thynges secretlye bestowed vppon the beame. Wherevpon she sayd vnto hir daughter, that for so much as their house was in the possession of an other, she ought to be wise and circumspect in the recouerye of hir hidden goods: and that hir death was the more greuous vnto hir, because she must leaue hir (so yong a maiden) vnprouided of frendes for hir good gouernement. But yet she incouraged hir againe and sayd: that sith necessity approched, she must in childyshe age, put on a graue and auncient minde, and beware howe shee bewrayed that casket to any person, for that of purpose shee reserued the knowledge thereof, to hir self, that it might serue for hir preferment, and procure hir a husband worthy of hir selfe. And the maiden demaundinge the value of the same, shee told hir that it was worth CC. Talentes, and gaue hir in writing the particulars inclosed within the Caskette, and that the lyke bill shee should find within the same, written wyth hir owne Hande. And so the good woman within a while after dyed, leauyng behynde hir the yong mayden hir daughter, that maruellously lamented the death of hir mother, accordingly as nature taught hir, and ech other reasonable wyght depriued from their dearest friends. The maiden for hir yeres was very wise, and would disclose to none what her mother had sayd, keeping the writing very carefully. Not long after Philene (whych was the maiden’s name) fell in loue with a Gentleman of Scicilia of greate reputation and authority, who al bee it he saw hir to be very faire and comely, yet cared not for hir loue in respect of Maryage, for that hee knewe hir to bee poore, and withoute dowrie mete for a Gentleman, iestyng and mocking to see hir fixe hir minde on him, for desyre to haue him to hir husbande, that was a personage so noble and rich: which refusall pierced the hearte of the tender maiden, bicause she saw hir selfe forsaken for nothynge else, but for want of goods: whych made hir to think and consider, howe shee myght recouer the riches that hir mother had layed vp in Carthage. It chaunced as she was in this meditation, the daughter of him to whome the House of Chera was giuen, called Elisa, was likewise enamoured of a noble yong gentleman in Carthage, who bicause Elisa was the daughter of a Souldiour, and not very rich, in like manner laughed and iested at hir loue, no lesse than the other did at Philene. Notwithstanding Elisa attempted al meanes possible to induce the yong man to loue hir, but hir practise and attemptes tended to none effect. And last of all, desirous to haue a resolute answere, and thereby vnderstode, that he would rather dye than take hir to Wyfe, she fell into despayre and curssed fortune, and hir fate, that she was not borne riche enough to match wyth hir chosen Gentleman, and that she being poore, must fall in loue wyth sutch a personage: whereupon she miserably tormented hir selfe, still bewaylinge hir vnhappy lucke, that shee could not win him to be hir husband, for whych only intent and purpose she loued him. And this amorous passion incredibly growing in hir, the rootes whereof be planted in the restlesse humor of melancholy, and wanting all hope and comforte to stay that Ranke and Rammishe weede, it so increased in her, as shee franticke in raging loue gaue hir selfe ouer to the spoyle of herself: and to rid her from the griefe, she determined to kill hir selfe, imagining whych way she might do the same. At length she was resolued, with hir father’s sword to peerce hir body: but hir heart not seruing hir thereunto, deuised by the halter to end her lyfe, saying thus to herselfe: “Thys death yet shal do me good, that the cruel man may know that for his sake I haue done this fact: and if his heart be not made of Iron or steele, he can not chose but sorrowe and lament, that a poore mayde whych loued him better than hir owne lyfe, hath made sutch wretched ende onely for his cruelty.” Elisa concludinge vpon this intent, prepared a Halter: and being alone in her house, in the chamber where the Casket lay vpon the beame, placed a stoole vnder the same, and began to tye the halter about the beame: in doinge whereof, she espied the casket, and reached the same vnto hir, who feeling it to be heauy and weighty, immediatly did open it, and founde the Byll within, which Chera had written with hir owne hand, agreable to that which she had deliuered to hir daughter, wherein were particularly remembred the Iewels and other riches fast closed within the casket. Who disclosing the bagges wherein the gold and Iewels were bound vp, and seeing the great value of the same, wondred thereat, and ioyfull for that fortune, hid the rope which she had prepared for hir death, in the place where she found the casket, and with great gladnesse and mirth went vnto hir father, and shewed him what she had found, whereat the father reioyced no lesse, then his daughter Elisa did, bicause he sawe himselfe thereby to be discharged of his former poore life, and like to proue a man of inestimable wealth and substance: and saw likewise that the poore wench his daughter, by the addicion of those riches, was like to attayne the party whom shee loued. When he had taken forth those bagges and well surueyed the value, to the intent no man might suspect the sodayne mutation of his state, tooke his daughter with him, and went to Rome, where after he had remayned certayne monethes, hee returned to Carthage, and began very galantly to apparell himselfe, and to keepe a bountifull and liberall house. His table and port was very delicate and Sumptuous, and hys Stable stored wyth many fayre Horsse, in all poynctes sheewinge himselfe very Noble and rich: by which sodayne chaunge of state, the whole Citty beleeued that he had brought that wealth from Rome. And bicause it is the common opinion of the vulgar sort, that where there is no riches, there is no nobility, and that they alone make men noble and gentle (a foolyshe Opinion in deede proceedinge from heads that be rash and light) the people markynge that porte and charge kept by the Souldiour, conceyued that he was of some noble house. And throughout the whole Citty great and solemne honour was done vnto him: whereupon the young Gentleman, with whom Elisa was in loue, began to bee ashamed of himselfe, that he had disdayned the mayden. Whych mayden seeing hir Father’s house to be in sutch reputation, made sute to her father, that he would procure the Gentleman to bee hir husband. But hir father wylled hir in any wyse to keepe secret hir desire, and not to seeme her selfe to bee in loue, and wysely tolde hir, that more meete it was that she should bee solicited by him, than shee to make sute or request for mariage: alleaginge that the lesse desirous the gentleman had bene of hir, the more deare and better beloued shee shoulde be to hym. And many tymes when hys Daughter was demaunded to Wyfe, he made aunswere that matrimony was a state of no litle importance, as enduring the whole course of Lyfe, and therefore ought well to bee considered and wayed, before any conclusion were made. But for all these demaundes and aunswers, and all these stops and stayes, the mayden was indowed with an honest dowry, and in the end her louer and she were maried, with so great pleasure and satisfaction of them both, as they deemed themselues happy. In the meane time while these things were done at Carthage, Philene in Scicilia toke thought how she might recouer her goods geuen to her by her mother, desirous by their meanes also to sort hir earnest and ardent loue to happy successe. And debatinge with her selfe (as we haue sayd before) howe she might obtayne them, because the house was in possession of an other, thought it to bee agaynst reason and order, that although she had lost hir house, yet hir goods ought to be restored vnto hir, which were hir onely mayntenance and reputation, and the fittest instrument that should conduct her loue to happy ende. And hearinge tell that the Father of Elisa the possessor of hir mother’s house liued at Carthage in great royalty and magnificence, thought that if by some sleight and pollicie she founde not meanes to enter the house without suspicion, hir attempt would be in vayne: determined therefore to goe to Carthage, and to seeke seruice in that house, counterfaytinge the kynde and habite of a Page. For she considered, that if she went thither in order and apparell of a mayden, she should incur the perill of her virginity, and fall into the lapse of diuers other daungers, purposed then to go thyther in maner of a Page and lacky. And when she had in that sort furnished hirselfe, she passed the Seas, and arriued at Carthage. And seekinge seruice about the City at length chaunced to be retayned in a house that was next neyghbour to the Souldier, and bicause this wench was gentle and of a good disposition, was wel beloued of her maister, who being the frend of Elisa, hir Father many times sent vnto him diuers presents and gifts by Philene, wherevppon she began to be acquainted and familiar with the seruantes of the house, and by her oft repayre thyther viewed and marked euery corner, and vpon a time entred the chamber wherein hir Mother Chera olde hir, that shee had bestowed hir goods, and lookinge vpont the Beames espied by certayne Signes and tokens, one of them to be the same where the Casket lay: and therewithal wel satisfied and contented, verily supposed that the casket still remayned there, and without further businesse for that time, expected some other season for recouery of the same. In the ende, the good behauiour and diligence of Philene, was so liked of Elisa, as hir father and she made sute to hir maister to giue hir leaue to serue them, who bycause they were his friends, preferred Philene vnto them, and became a page of that house. And one day secretly repayrynge into the chamber, where the treasure lay mounted vppon a stoole, and sought the beame for the casket: where she found no casket, but in place where that lay, the halter, wherwithal Elisa woulde haue strangled hir self. And searching all the parts of the Chamber and the beames, and finding nothing else but the halter, she was surprised with sutch incredible sorrowe, as she seemed like a stock, without spiryte, voice or life. Afterwardes, being come againe to hir selfe, shee began pitifully to lament and complayn in this maner: “Ah wretched Philene, vnder what vnluckie signe and planet was thou begotten and borne? wyth what offence were the heauens wroth, when they forced thee to pierce thy mother’s wombe? Could I poore creature when I was framed within the moulde of nature, and fed of my mother’s substance within hir wombe, and afterwards in due time brought forth to light, commit such crime, as to prouoke the celestiall impressions to conspire agaynst my Natiuity, to brynge mine increased age into such wretched state and plighte wherein it is now wrapped? No, no, my faulte was nothing, it was parent’s offence, if any were at all: for many times we see the innocent babe afflicted for the father’s guilt. The Gods do punish the posterity, for som sacrilege or notorious crime committed by progenitors: theyr manner is not to suffer heynous faultes vnreuenged: their iustice cannot abide such mischief vncorrected for example sake: so fareth it by me. First my father died, after wardes my Mother a widow was driuen to abandon natiue soyle, and seeke reliefe in forrain land: and leauing that wherwith we were possessed in enimies keping, were forced a simple life to leade among straungers. And my mother, yelding forth hir ghost, made me beleue that shee had hidden great treasures here: and I vnhappy wench thinking to obteine the pray, haue wandred in counterfeit kind, and fetcheed many a bitter sigh, vntil I came into this place: and the thing I hoped for, which myght haue bene the meanes and ende of all my care, is turned to nothyng: a casket transformed into a halter: gold and Iewels into a piece of rope? Is this the mariage dowry (Philene) thou art like to haue to match with him whom thou so derely louest? Is this the knot that shall conioyne you both in yoke of man and wife? Ah wretch and miserable caitife, the goods thy mother layd vp for thee, for maintenance of thy rest, and safegarde of thine honour, and for the reputation of thy noble house, wherof thou camst, is now berieued from thee: they that kepe this stately house, and beare their lofty port amid the best, haue despoiled thee pore wench of that after which thou didst vainly trauayle. But what remedye now? sith thy wicked lot doth thus fall out, sith thy cruel fate is loth thou shouldest atteine the thing on whych thy mind is bente, and sith thy painfull lyfe can take no ende, make spede to rid thy selfe from misery by that meanes which he hath prepared for thee that hath found thy goods: who seeing his good aduenture to be thy bane, his happy pray to bee thy spoyle, hath left in lieu of treasure, a halter, that therwith thou mightest dispatch thy selfe from all thy griefes, and in their vnhappye companye to cease thy life, that the lothsom, lengthning of the same might not increase thy further plaints, sorowes, anguish and affliction. And in the place where infortunate Philene toke hir beginning, ther the Miserable wretche must finishe that, which without hir desired gaine no longer can be maynteined. Peraduenture it may come to passe as when thy soule is losed from this mortall charge, it shall stalke by hym, by whom it liueth, and by him also whom she thought to ioy in greatest contentation that euer mortall woman did.” And thus plaininge and sighing hir il fortune, when she had ended those words she tyed the halter about the beame, where sometimes hir Treasure lay, which beyng done shee put the same about hir necke, sayinge: “O crooked Lady Fortune, that hast thus vnfrendly dealt with thine humble clyent: Ah dispayre, thou vgly wretch and companion of the distressed that is vnwillinge to leaue my haunte vntyll thou playe the Hangman. Ah Dyuell incarnate that goest aboute to hale and plucke the innocent into thy hellish caue. Out vppon the thou deformed hellish dogge, that waitest at the fiery gate to lette them in, which faine would passe an other porte.” And as shee was powrying forth these spitefull wordes, redy to remove the stoole to fetch hir swynge, the Gods which would not giue consent, that the innocent wench should enter that vile and opprobrious death, moued the heart of Elisa, to passe by the place where she was in workynge on her selfe that desperate end: who hearing those moneful plaints vttred after such terrible manner, opened the Chamber doore, and saw that myserable sight: and ignorant of the occasion, moued with pity, ranne and stayed hir from the fact, saying thus vnto hir: “Ah Philene,” (whych was the name that she had giuen to hir selfe) “what folie hath bewitched thy mind? What phrensie hath incharmed thy braine? What harde aduenture hath moued thee in this miserable wise, to ende thy life?” “Ah” (sayd Philene) “suffer me Elisa, to finish my tormentes: giue me liberty to vnburden myselfe from the bande of cares that do assaile me on euery side: lette these Helhoundes that stande heare rounde about mee, haue theyr praye for which they gape. Thou moued by compassion, arte come hither to stay mee from the Halter: but in doyng so, thou doest mee greater wrong, than doeth despayre whych eggeth me therunto. Suffer I say, that mine afflictions may take some end, sith cruel fortune willeth it to be so, or rather vnhappy fate: for sowre death is sweeter in my conceit, than bitter life contriued in sharper sauce than gall or wormwood.” Elisa hearing her speake these wordes, sayd: “For so much as thy myshap is such, as onely death is the nearest remedy to depriue thy payne, what wicked chaunce hath induced thee, in this house to finish those thy miseries? What hath prouoked the to sutch augury to this our most happy and ioyfull family?” “Forced is the partye” (sayd Philene) “so to doe when destenye hath so appointed.” “What desteny is that?” demaunded Elisa. “Tell mee I beseech thee, perchaunce thou mayst preuent the same by other remedy than that whereabout thou goest.” “No,” (answered Philene) “that is impossible, but to satisfie thy request which so instantly thou crauest of me, I wil tel thee the summe of al my miserie.” In saying so the teares gushed forth hir eyes, and hir voice brake oute into complaints, and thus began to say: “Ah Elisa, why should I seke to prolong my wretched life in this vale of wretchednesse, wherein I haue ben so miserably afflicted? my mother pitieng mine estate and seeynge me voide of frends, and a fatherlesse child vpon hir death bed, disclosed vnto me a treasure which she had hidden vpon this beam whervnto this halter (the best remedy of my misery) is tied: and I making serch for the same, in place of that treasure found this halter, ordeined as I suppose (by what misfortune I knowe not) for my death: and where I thought among the happy to be the most happy, I see my selfe amongs al vnlucky women to be the most vnfortunate.” Elisa hearing hir say so, greatly maruelled and sayd: “Why then I perceiue thou art a woman and not a man.” “Yea, truly,” answered the vnhappy mayden: “A singuler example of extreme misery to all sortes of women.” “And why so?” demaunded Elisa. “Bicause” (answered Philene) “that the pestilent planet vnder which I was borne, will haue it to be so.” And then she told hir al that which had chaunced from the time of hir mother’s departure out of Carthage, and how she went into Scicilia and recounted vnto hir the loue that she bare to a Scicilian Gentleman, and howe that he disdayning hir for hir pouerty, refused to be hir husband: whervpon to atchieue hir desire as loth to forgoe him, was come in maner of a page to Carthage, to recouer the riches which hir Mother had hidden there, to the intente she might obtaine (if not by other meanes) with som rich dowrie, the yong Gentleman to husband whom she so dearely loued. And then reenforcing hir complaint, she said: That sith Fortune had despoiled hir of that which might haue accomplished hir desire, resting no cause why she should any longer liue, the halter was prepared for hir to end her daies, and to rid hir life from troubles. And therefore she praied hir to be contented, that she might make that end which hir misaduenture and wicked fortune had predestinate. I doubt not but there be many, which vnderstanding that the treasure did belong to Philene, if they had found the like as Elisa did, would not onely not haue forbidden hir the Death, but also by speedy meanes haue hastened the same, for so mutch as by that occasion the hidden treasure should haue ben out of strife and contention: so greate is the force of couetousnesse in the minde of man. But good Elisa knew ful wel the mutability of Fortune in humaine thinges, for so mutch as she by seeking death, had fonde the thinge which not onely deliuered hir from the same, but made hir the best contented woman of the worlde. And Philene seekinge hir contentation, in place thereof, and by like occasion, found the thinge that would haue ben the instrument of hir death, and moued with very great compassion of the mayden, desired to haue better aduertisement howe that treasure could belong to her. Then Philene shewing forth hir mother’s writing, which particularly remembred the parcels within the casket, and Elisa seeinge the same to be agreeable to the hand wherewith the other was written that was founde in the casket, was assured that all the gold and Iewels which she had found, did belong vnto Philene, and sayd vnto hirselfe: “The Gods defend that I should prepare the halter for the death of this innocent Wench, whose substaunce hath yelded vnto mee my hart’s desire.” And comforting the mayden, in the ende she sayd: “Be contented Philene, and giue ouer this thy desperate determination, for both thy lyfe shalbe prolonged, and thy discontented minde appeased, hoping thou shalt receyue the comforte thou desirest.” And with those words she losed the halter from hir neck, and takinge hir by the hand, brought hir to the place where hir Father and husband were, and did them to vnderstand the force and terms whereunto the fier of loue and desperation had brought that amorous mayden: tellinge them that all the treasure and Iewels which she had found (where she left the halter, and wherewith Philene was minded to hang hir selfe) did by good right and reason belonge to hir: then she did let them se the counterpayne of that bill which was in the casket, in all points agreeable thereunto, declaringe moreouer that verye lyke and reasonable yt were, like curtesie should bee vsed vnto her, as by whom they hadde receyued so greate honoure and delyghte. Her husband which was a Carthagian borne, very churlishe and couetous, albeit by conferring the writings together, he knewe the matter to be true, and that Philene ought to be the possessor thereof, yet by no meanes would agree vnto hys wyue’s request, but fell into a rage, callinge hir Foole and Ideot, and sayinge that hee had rather that shee had bene a Thousande tymes hanged, than he would giue hir one peny: and although she had saued hir life, yet she ought to be banished the Citty, for so mutch as the same and all the propertie thereof was brought into the Romane’s handes, and amongs the same hir mother’s house, and al hir goods in possession of the victors, and euery part, at their disposition and pleasure. And moreouer, for so mutch as hir mother and shee had departed Carthage, and would not abide the hazarde and extremity of their country as other Citizens did, and hauing concealed and hidden those riches which ought to haue ben brought forth for the common defence of their countrey, and gone out of the Citty as though she had ben a poore simple Woman, poorely therefore she ought to lyue in Scicilia, whyther she was fled. Wherefore he was of opinion, that she in this maner beinge departed when the Citty had greatest neede of hir helpe, was disfranchised of all the rightes and customes of the countrey, and that like as a straunger can recouer nothinge in that Citty, except he haue the priuiledge and Freedome of the same, euen so Philene (for the considerations before recited) ought to be compted for a straunger, and not to participate any thinge within the City, accordingly as the lawes forbid. When he had so sayd, he was like by force to expell the sorrowfull mayden out of the house. These wordes greatly grieued Philene, who doubted least his father in law would haue ioyned with him, and agree vnto hys alleaged reasons, whych seemed to be of great importaunce and effect: and therefore thought newly to returne to the Halter for remedy of hir griefes; but it otherwise chaunced, for the Father of Elisa, which was a Romane borne, and affected with a Romane minde, and therefore of a Gentle and well disposed nature, knew ful wel, that although the house was giuen vnto him by the consent of Scipio, and other the Captaynes, yet he knew that their pleasure was not to bestowe on him the treasure hidden in the same, and therefore ought to be restored to the true owner, or else confiscate and properly due to the Romane Eschequer, or common treasure house of the same: and albeit that it was true that hir Mother went out of Carthage, in the time of the Siege, and therefore had forfayted the same, yet he determined to shewe some curtesie vnto the younge mayden, and to be thankfull to fortune, for the benefite which by hir meanes he had receyued, thinkinge that she would be displeased with him, if he with vngratefull minde or dishonourable intent should receyue hir giftes. For in those dayes the Romans highly reuerenced Lady Fortune, and in hir honour had Erected Temples, and Dedicated Aultars, and in prosperous tyme and happy aduentures, they consecrated vowes, and sacrifices vnto hir, thinkinge (although supersticiously) that like as from God there proceeded none euil, euen so from him all goodnesse was deriued: that all felicity and other good happes, whych chaunced vppon the Romane Common wealth, proceeded from Fortune, as the Fountayne and most Principall Occasion, and that they which would not confesse hir force, and be thanckful vnto hir Godheade, incurred in the ende hir Displeasure and Daungers very great and haynous. This Romane then hauing this opinion, beinge (as I sayd before) of a gentle Disposition woulde at one instant both render thankes to Fortune, and vse curtesie vnto that mayden, by whose riches and goods from lowe degree he was aduanced to honourable state. Wherefore turning his Face vnto hir, with louing countenaunce he spake these wordes: “Right gentle damosel, albeit by the reasons alleged by my sonne in law, none of the treasure hidden by thy mother, and founde by my Daughter in thys house, of right doth appertayne to thee, yet I will that thou shalte vnderstande my curtesie, and that thou see how the Romanes doe more esteeme the nobility of their minde, than all the riches of the world. Therefore that thou mayst enioy thy loue, I referre vnto thee and to thy disposition all the goods and Iewels that were in the Casket, and contayned in thy writinge. Beholde therefore (causing the casket to be brought vnto him) all the Iewels and other parcels that were in the same when they were founde, take so mutch thereof as thou wilt, and if so bee thou desire the whole, willingly I render the same vnto thee, sithens by means of those riches, and the industry of my trafique, I haue gayned so mutch, as hauinge gyuen a conuenient dowry vnto my daughter, I honorably liue without it.” Philene seeing the curtesie of this valiaunt gentleman, gaue him infinite thanks, and then sayd vnto him: “Sir, I for my part dare aske nothinge, well knowinge that if you geue me nothinge, there is no cause why I shoulde complayne of you, but of my hard and wicked fortune, whych hath offered and giuen that to you, which ought to haue bin mine. Wherefore, sith your curtesie is sutch, as you refer the whole to mee, I purpose to take nothing, but will that the whole shall bee in your disposition, and giue mee what you list, and that so gieuen of your liberality, I shal more thankfully receiue, than if debt or duty did constrayne it: and if it shall please you to giue me nothing, my heart shal bee so well appeased, for that your curtesie, as rather woulde I chose to liue in the poore estate wherein I am, than be rych with your displeasure.” Howbeit, the Romayne intreated Philene to take thereof what shee thought good: and Philene craued no more than it pleased hym to gyue. Eyther of them standinge vpon these termes Elisa, brake the strife, who knowinge the force of loue, and the griefes incident to his clients, by hir own harmes, moued to haue compassion vpon the afflicted, turned towardes hir father, and sayd vnto him: “Right louinge father, the contencion betweene Philene and you, is risen of a matter which came by me. The treasure for which you striue, and committed to the will of Philene, was found by me, whereof if it please you both, I wyll take sutch order, as both you shalbe satisfied.” “I am contented,” sayd hir father: “And I likewise,” aunswered Philene. Then sayd Eliza: “You father hitherto haue had but one Daughter, which am I, vnto whom like a chylde and louinge daughter I haue bene obedient, and shalbe all the dayes of my lyfe: and I agayne haue receiued from you sutch fatherly education, as your ability and state required. This treasure I found and gaue to you for ease and comfort of vs both: to me it yelded the only delectation of my heart in choyse of husband: to you honour and estimation within thys Citty. Wherefore, sith the principal came from me, and the right resteth in this careful maiden, my desire is, that where before you had but one daughter, you will adopt this mayden for another, and thinke that you have twaine, and that you will intreate Philene in like sort as if shee were my sister: and where this Inheritance and reuenue wherewith now you be possessed, and this casket also ought to be onely myne after your decease, for that you haue no sonnes, nor other Issue, my desire is that you geue vnto her the halfe, and that you accept hir for your daughter, as I doe meane to take hir for my sister: and accordingely to vse hir duringe lyfe.” With these wordes Elisa imbraced Philene, and louingly dyd kisse hir, sayinge vnto hir: “For my sister I entertayn thee Philene.” And then shee tooke hir by the hand and gaue hir vnto hir father with these wordes: “Beholde father, your new daughter, whom I beseech you so hartily to loue as you do Elisa your naturall chylde.” The father praysed the curtesie of Elisa, and receiued Philene for his daughter and was contented wyth the Arbitrament of his Daughter. But Elisa perceyuing hir husband to be somewhat offended therewyth, specially for that the same should be deuided into two partes, which was like to haue bene hys wholly before, persuaded hym by gentle meanes to be content wyth that agreement: and although at the first he could not well brooke the liberality of his wyfe, yet at length viewinge the good behauiour and gentle disposition of Philene, and the contented minde of his father in law, together with the noble nature of his wyfe, and hir wise aduertisement of Fortune’s fickle assurance, yelded, and acknowledged Philene for hys kinswoman. And so Philene put in possession of the halfe of those goods, whereof she was altogether out of hope, was well satisfied, and had the Romane for hir father, Elisa for hir sister, and hir husband for hir kinsman. That valyant Roman was so careful ouer Philene, as if she had ben his owne daughter, and so indeuored, as he brought to passe that she obteined hir beloued Scicilian to husbande: who also sent for hym to Carthage, where he continued with his wife in the Romane’s house, and loved them both so dearely as though he had ben father to the one, and father in lawe to the other. In this maner these two poore wenches attained their two husbands, for hauing of whom, theyr onely care was for Ryches, and for lacke thereof were dryuen to despayre: and in the ende both (though diuersly, and the one more fortunat than the other) recouered riches, and with the same theyr husbandes, to their heartes singular ioye and contentation. Which lucke I wyshe to all other poore Girles (but not hangyng rype, or louynge in despayre) that bend their mindes on Mariage, and seeke to people by that estate, their countrey common wealth. But leauinge for a time these Tragicall Nouels and heauy chaunces, wee purpose to remember some morall matters right worthy of remembraunce: Letters they bee from a godly Pagane clerk, the famous Philosopher Plutarch, Schoolemaister to an Emperour of no lesse vertue, than hys mayster’s Schoole and mynde was fraught with diuine Precepts. Wherefore proceede (good Reader) to continue the paynes vpon the readinge of these, so well as thou hast vouchsafed to employ thy time before. They shal no lesse delite thee, if vertue brooke thee, they shal no lesse content thee if duty please thee, than any delightsome thing, whereupon (at any tyme) thou hast employed thy vacaunte tyme.

THE TWELFTH NOUELLE.

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROUR TRAIANE.

Letters of the Philosopher Plutarch to the noble and vertuous Emperour Traiane, and from the sayd Emperour to Plutarch: the lyke also from the sayd Emperour to the Senate of Rome. In all which be conteyned godly rules for gouernment of Princes, obedience of Subiects, and their duties to common wealth.

Bicause these Letters ensuinge (proceeding from the infallible Schoole of Wisedome, and practised by an apt Scholler of the same, by a noble Emperor that was well trained vp by a famous Philosopher) in myne opinion deserue a place of Recorde amonge our Englishe Volumes, and for the wholsome errudition, ought to Englishmen in english shape to bee described, I haue thought good in this place to introduce the same. And although to some it shal not peraduenture seeme fit and conuenient to mingle holy with prophane, (accordinge to the prouerbe) to intermedle amongs pleasaunt histories, ernest epistles, amid amorous Nouels, learned Letters, yet not to care for report or thought of sutch findefaults, I iudge them not vnseemely, the course of those histories. For amid the diuine works of Philosophers and Oratours, amongs the pleasaunt paynes of auncient Poets, and the Nouell writers of our time, merry verses so well as morall matters be mingled, wanton bankets so wel as wise disputations celebrated, tauntinge and iocund Orations so well as effectuall declamations and persuasions pronounced. These letters contayne many graue and wholesom documents, sundry vertuous and chosen Institutions for Prynces and Noble men, yea and for sutch as beare offyce and preferment in commonwealth from highest title to meanest degree. Theese letters do vouch the reioyce of a Schoolemayster for bringinge vp a Scholler of capacity and aptnesse, to imbrace and Fix in Memory sutch lessons as he taught him. These Letters do gratulate and remembre the ioy of the disciple for hauinge sutch a maister. These letters do pronounce the minde of a vertuous Prince towardes hys subiects for choyse of him to the empire, and for that they had respect rather to the vertue and condition, than to the nobility or other extreme accident. To be short, these letters speake and pronounce the very humblenesse and fealty that ought to rest in subiectes’ hearts: with a thousand other excellent sentences of duties. So that if the Emperour Nerua had bin aliue agayne to peruse these letters and Epistles of congratulation betweene the Schoolemayster and Scholler, he would no lesse haue reioysed in Plutarch than king Philip of Macedon did of Aristotle, when hee affirmed himself to be happy, not so much for hauinge sutch a sonne as Alexander was, as for that he was borne in sutch a time, as had brought Aristotle to be his maister. That good Emperor Nerua, shewed a patern to his successor by his good vertuous lyfe and godly gouernment, which made a successor and a people of no lesse consequence than they were trayned, accordingly as Herodian voucheth, that for the most part the people be wont to imitate the Life of their Prince and soueraygne Lord. If Philip deemed hymselfe happy and blessed for hauing sutch a sonne and mayster, then might Nerua terme himselfe threefolde more happy for sutch a Nephew and sutch a notable Schoolemayster as Plutarch was, who not only by doctrine but by practise proued a passing good Scholler. Alexander was a good Scholer and for the time wel practised his maister’s Lessons, but afterwards as glory and good hap accompanied his noble disposition, so did he degenerate from former life, and had quite forgotten what he had learned, as the second Nouell of this Booke more at large declareth. But Traiane of a toward Scholler, proued sutch an Emperour and victor ouer himselfe, as schoolinge and rulinge were in him miraculous, and surmounting Paragon of piety and vertue: wherefore not to stay thee from the perusinge of those Letters, the right image of himselfe: thus beginneth Plutarch to write vnto his famous Scholler Traiane.

A Letter of the Philosopher Plutarch to the Emperor Traiane, wherein is touched how Gouerners of Common wealths ought to be prodigal in deedes and spare in words.

My most dread soueraygne Lorde, albeit of longe tyme I haue known the modesty of your mynde, yet neyther I nor other liuing man did euer know that you aspired to that, which many men desire, which is to be Emperour of Rome. That man should withdrawe himselfe from honour, it were cleane without the boundes of wysedome: but not to lycence the heart to desire the same, that truely is a worke diuine, and not proceedinge of humayne nature. For he doeth indifferently well, that represseth the works which his handes be able to do, without staying upon his owne desires, and for good consideration wee may terme thine Empire to be very happy, sith thou hast so nobly demeaned thy selfe to deserue the same without search and seekinge industrious pollicy to attayne thereunto. I haue known within the city of Rome many great personages, which were not so mutch honored for the offices whych they bare, as they were for the meanes and deuises whereby they sought to be aduaunced to the same. May it please you to vnderstand (most excellent Prince) that the honor of a vertuous man doth not consist in the office, which he presently hath, but rather in the merites that preferred him thereunto: In such wise, as it is the office that honoreth the partye, and to the officer there resteth but a painful charge. By meanes wherof, when I remember that I was your gouerner from your youth, and instructed your vertuous mind in letters, I can not chose but very much reioyce, so well for your soueraigne vertue, as for your maiestie’s good fortune, deming it to be a great happinesse vnto me that in my time Rome hath inioyed him to be their souraigne lord, whom I had in tymes past to be my scholler. The principalities of kyngdomes some winne by force, and maintayne them by armes, which ought not so to be in you, nor yet conceiue opinion of your selfe, but rather to thinke that the empire which you gounerne by vniuersall consent, yee ought to entertayne and rule with general iustice. And therfore if you loue and reuerence the Gods, if you bee pacient in trauels, warie in daungers, curteous to your people, gentle to straungers, and not couetous of treasure, nor louer of your owne desires: you shall make your fame immortall, and gouern the common wealth in soueraign peace: that you be not a louer of your own desires, I speake it not withoute cause, for there is no worse gouernement than that which is ruled by selfe wyll and priuate opinion. For as he that gouerneth a common wealth ought to lyue in feare of al men, euen so mutch more in feare of him selfe, in so mutch as he may commit greater errour by doinge that which his owne luste commaundeth, than if he were ruled by the counsell of other. Assure you sir, that you can not hurt your selfe, and mutch lesse preiudice vs your subiects, if you do correct your selfe before you chastise others, esteemyng that to bee a ryght good gouernment when you be prodigal in workes, and spare of speache. Assay then to be such a one now, that you do commaunde, as you were when you were commaunded. For otherwise it would lyttle auaile to do things for deseruing of the empyre, if afterwards your dedes be contrary to former deserts. To com to honour it is a humane worke, but to conserue honour it is a thing diuine. Take hede then (most excellent Traiane) that you do remembre and still reuolue in minde, that as you be a Prince supreme, so to apply your self to be a passing ruler. For there is no authority amongs men so high, but that the Gods aboue be iudges of their thoughts, and men beneth beholders of their deedes. Wherfore sith presentlye you are a mighty Prince, your duety is the greater to be good, and leisure lesse to be wycked, than when you were a pryuate Man. For hauing gotten authority to commaund, your lyberty is the lesse to bee idle: so that if you bee not sutch a one as the common people haue opinion of you, and such againe as your maister Plutarch desireth, you shall put your selfe in greate Daunger, and myne Ennymyes wyll seeke meanes to bee reuenged on mee, knowynge wel that for the Scholler’s faulte the Mayster Dayly suffreth wronge by slaunderous checke imputed vnto hym (although withoute cause.) And for so much as I haue ben thy maister, and thou my scholer, thou must indeuour by well doyng, to render me some honour. And lykewyse if thou do euyll, great infamy shall lyght on me, euen as it did to Seneca for Nero his cause, whose cruelties don in Rome were imputed to his mayster Seneca. The like wronge was done to the Philosopher Chilo, by beyng burdened with the neglygent nouriture of his Scholler Leander. They truely were famous personages and greate learned men, in whom the gouernemente of myghty Princes was reposed: notwithstandyng, for not correcting them in their youth, nor teachying them with carefull dylygence, they blotted for euermore theyr renoume, as the cause of the destruction of many common wealthes. And forsomuch as my pen spared none in times paste, bee well assured Traiane, that the same will pardon neither thee or mee in tyme to come: for as wee bee confederate in the fault, euen so we shal be heires of the pain. Thou knowest well what lessons I haue taught thee in thy youth, what counsell I haue gyuen thee, beeying come to the state of man, and what I haue written to thee, sithens thou hast ben Prince, and thou thy selfe art recorde of the wordes which I haue spoken to thee in secrete: in all whych I neuer persuaded thyng but that intended to the seruice of the gods, profite of the common wealthe and increase of thy renoume: wherfore, I am right sure, that for anye thing which I haue written, sayd, or persuaded there is no cause I should feare the punishment of the gods, and much lesse the reprochful shame of men, verily beleuing that al which I coulde say in secrete, might without reproch be openly published in Rome. Nowe before I toke my pen in hand to write this Letter, I examined my lyfe, to know, if (during the time that I had charge of thee) I dyd or sayd in thy presence any thing that might prouoke thee to euill example. And truely (vnmete for me to say it) vpon that searche of my forepassed life, I neuer found my selfe guilty of facte vnmeete a Roman Cytyzen, nor euer spoke woorde vnseemelye for a Phylosoper: by meanes whereof I doe ryght heartely wyshe, thou wouldest remember the good educatyon and instructyon whych thou dyddest learne of mee. I speake not thys, that thou shouldest gratifie me againe with any Benefite, but to the ende thou myghtest serue thy selfe, esteemynge that no greater pleasure there is that can redounde to me, than to heare a good report of thee. Be then well assured that if an Empyre bee bestowed vpon thee, it was not for that thou wer a Citizen of Rome or a couragious person descended of noble house, rich and mighty, but only bicause vertues did plentifully abounde in thee. I dedicated vnto thee certaine bookes of old and auncient common wealth, which if it please thee to vse, and as at other times I haue sayd vnto thee, thou shalte finde mee to be a proclaimer of thy famous workes, and a chronicler of all thy noble facts of armes: but if perchaunce thou follow thine owne aduise, and chaunge thy selfe to bee other than hitherto thou hast ben, presently I inuocate and cry out vpon the immortall Gods, and this Letter shall be wytnesse, that if any hurt do chaunce to thee, or to thine Empire, it is not through the counsell or meanes of thy maister Plutarch. And so farewell most Noble Prynce.

The aunswere of the Emperour Traiane to hys mayster Plutarch.

Cocceius Traiane Emperour of Rome, to the Philosopher Plutarch, sometimes my mayster: salutation and consolation in the Gods of comfort. In Agrippina was deliuered vnto me a letter from thee, whych so soone as I opened, I knew to be written wyth thine owne hand, and endited with thy wysedom. So flowing was the same with goodly woordes and accompanied with graue sentences, an occasion that made mee reade the same twice or thrice, thinking that I saw thee write and heard thee speak, and so welcome was the same to me, as at that very instant I caused it to be red at my table, yea and made the same to be fixed at my bed’s heade, that thy well meanyng vnto me might be generally knowen, how mutch I am bound vnto thee. I esteemed for a good presage the congratulation that the Consul Rutulus did vnto me from thee, touchinge my commyng to the empire: I hope through thy merites, that I shall be a good Emperoure. Thou sayest in thy letter, that thou canste by no meanes beleue that I haue giuen bribes, and vsed meanes to buye myne Empire, as other haue done. For aunswere thereunto I say, that as a man I haue desired it, but neuer by solicitation or other meanes attempted it: for I neuer saw wythin the City of Rome any man to bribe for honour, but for the same, some notable infamy chaunced vnto hym, as for example wee may learne of the Good old man Menander, my friende and thy neyghbour, who to be Consul, procured the same by vnlawful meanes, and therfore in the end was banished and died desperately. The greate Caius Cæsar, and Tiberius, Caligula, Cladius, Nero, Galba, Otho Vitelius, and Domitian, some for usurpyng the Empire, some for tyranny, some for gettyng it by bribes, and some by other meanes procuryng the same, lost (by the sufferance of the righteous gods) not onely their honour and goodes, but also they died miserably. When thou dydst reade in thy schole, and I that time an hearer of thy doctrine, many times I hearde thee say, that we ought to trauel to deserue honour, rather than procure the same, esteemynge it vnlawfull to get honour by meanes vnlawfull. He that is without credite, ought to assay to procure credite. Hee that is with out honour, ought to seeke honour. But the vertuous man hathe no neede of noblenesse, ne hee himselfe, ne yet any other person can berieue him of due honour. Thou knowest wel Plutarch, that the yere past, the office of Consul was gyuen to Torquatus, and the Dictatorship to Fabritius, who were so vertuous and so little ambitious as not desyrous to receyue such charges, absented themselues, although that in Rome, they might have ben in great estimation, by reason of those offices, and yet neuerthelesse without them they bee presently esteemed, loued and honoured: and therefore I conceiue greater delight in Quintius Lincinatus, in Scipio Affricanus, and good Marcus Portius, for contemning of theyr offices, than for the victories which they atchieued: for victories many times consist in fortune, and the not caryng for honorable charge in onely wisedome. Semblably, thou thy selfe art witnesse, that when myn vncle Cocceius Nerua was exiled to Capua, he was more visited, and better serued, than when he was at Rome: whereby may bee inferred, that a vertuous man may bee exyled or banished, but honour he shall neuer want. The Emperour Domitian (if you do remember) at the departure of Nerua, made me many offers, and thee many fayre promises to entertain thee in his house, and to send mee into Almayne, which thou couldest not abyde, and much lesse consent, deeming it to be greater honour with Nerua to be exiled, than of Domitian to be fauored. I sweare by the Gods immortall, that when the good olde man Nerua sent me the ensigne of the Empyre, I was vtterly ignorant thereof, and voyd of hope to atteyne the same: for I was aduertised from the Senate, that Fuluius sued for it, and that Pamphilius went about to buy it. I knew also that the Consul Dolobella attempted to enioy it: then sith the gods did permit, that I should be Emperour, and that myne vncle Nerua did commaund the same, the Senate approued it, and the common wealth would haue it to be so: and sith it was the generall consent of all men, and specially your aduyse, I haue greate hope that the Gods will be fauorable vnto me, and Fortune no ennimie at all: assuring you, that like ioy whych you do saye you had by teachyng me, and seing me now to be Emperour, the lyke I haue to thynke that I was your Scholler: and sith that you wyll not call mee from henceforth any other but Soueraygne Lord, I wyll terme you by none other name, than Louyng father. And albeit that I haue ben visited and counselled by many men since my commyng to the Empyre, and by thee aboue the rest, whom before all other I wyll beleue, consideryng that the intent of those which counsell me, is to draw my mynd to theyrs, your letters purportyng nothyng else but mine aduauntage. I doe remember amongs other woordes, which once you spake to Maxentius the Secretary of Domitian, this saying: that they which doe presume to gyue counsell vnto Prynces, oughte to bee free from all passions and affections: for in counsell, where the wyll is moste enclined, the mynde is more prompte and ready: that a Prince in all thyngs doe his wyll I prayse not: that he take aduise and counsell of euery man I lesse allowe. That which he ought to doe (as me thinke) is to doe by counsel, forseeing for al that to what counsel he applieth his mynd: for counsel ought not to be taken of hym whom I doe well loue, but of hym of whom I am well beloued. All this I have wrytten (my mayster Plutarch) to aduertise you that from henceforthe I desire nothyng else at your handes, but to be holpen wyth your aduise in myne affayres, and that you tell me of my committed faults: for if Rome do thinke me to be a defender of their common wealth I make accompte of you to bee an ouerseer of my life: and therefore if you thinke that I am not thankfull ynough for the good aduyse, and holsom warenings that you gyue me: I am to intreate you (myne owne good mayster) not to take it in ill part, for in such cases, the griefe that I conceiue, is not for the good lessons you gyue me, but for the shame that I fayle in followyng them. The bryngyng of me vp in thy house, the hearyng of thy lectures, the folowyng of thy doctryne, and liuing vnder thy disciplyne, haue ben truly the pryncipal causes that I am commen to this Empyre. This mutch I say (mayster) for that it were an vnnatural parte in thee not to assist me to beare that thing, which thou haste holpen me to gayne and winne: and although that Vespasian was of nature a very good man, yet his greatest profite redounded to him by entertayning of the Philosopher Appolonius. For truelye it is a greater felicity for a Prince to chaunce vpon a good and faythfull man, to be neare about him, than to atchieue a large realme and kingdome. Thou sayest (Plutarch) that thou shalt receiue great contentation, from henceforth, if I be such a one now as I was before, or at lestwise if I be no worse. I belieue that which thou doest say, bicause the Emperour Nero, was the first fiue yeares of hys empyre good, and the other nine yeares exceedyng euill, in sutch wyse as he grew to be greater in wickednesse, than in dygnity. Notwithstanding, if thou thinke that as it chaunced vnto Nero, so may happen vnto Traiane, I besech the immortall Gods rather to depriue me of life, than to suffer me to raigne in Rome: for tyrantes bee they, whych procure dygnytyes and promotyons, to vse them for delighte and filthye luste: and good Rulers bee they which seeke them for profite of Common wealthe: and therfore to them whych before they came to those degrees were good, and afterwardes waxed Wycked, greater pity than enuye ought to be attributed, consideryng specyally, that Fortune did not aduaunce them to honour, but to shame and villany: beleue me then (good maister) that sith hitherto I haue ben reputed vertuous, I wyl assay by God’s assistance to aspire to be better, rather than to be worsse. And so the Gods preserue thee.

The Letter of the Emperour Traiane to the Senate of Rome, wherein is conteined, that honour ought rather to be deserued than procured.

Cocceius Traiane Emperour of the Romanes, euer Augustus, to our sacred Senate health and consolation in the gods of comfort. We beinge aduertised here at Agrippina of the Deathe of the Emperour Nerua, your soueraigne Lord and my predecessour, and knowing it to be true, that you haue wept and bewailed the losse of a Prince so noble and ryghteous, we likewise haue felt like sorow, for the death of so notable a father. When children lose a good father, and subiects a good Prynce, eyther they muste dye wyth them, or else by teares they must rayse them vp again, for so much as a good Prince in a common wealth is so rare, as the Phœnix in Arabia. My lord Nerua broughte me out of Spayne to Rome, nourished me vp in youth, caused mee to bee trained in letters and adopted me for his sonne in mine olde age: which graces and benefits truly I can not forget, knowyng that the ingrate man prouoketh the Gods to anger, and men to hatred. The death of a vertuous man is to be lamented of all men, but the death of a good Prince, ought to be extremely mourned: for if a common person die, there is but one dead, but if a god Prynce die, together with him dieth a whole Realme. I speake this (O ye Fathers) for the rare vertues abounding in myne vncle Nerua: for if the gods were disposed to sell vs the liues of good Prynces already departed, it were but a small ransome to redeeme them with teares: for what gold or syluer may be sufficient to buie the lyfe of a vertuous man. Truely there woulde be a greate masse of money gyuen by the Greekes for Alexander, by the Lacedemonians for Lycurgus, by the Romanes for Augustus, and by the Carthaginians for Annibal. But as you knewe the gods hauing made all thynges mortall, so haue they reserued onely themselues to bee immortall. How eminent and passing the vertue of the good is, and what priuiledge the godly haue, it may easily bee knowne: for so mutch, as honour is carried euen to the very graues of the dead, but so it is not to the greate Palaces of the wycked. The good and vertuous man, without sighte or knowledge we loue, serue, and aunswer for him: wherein the wycked we cannot beleue what he sayeth, and lesse accepte in good part the thyng whych he doeth for vs. Touchynge the electyon of the Empyre, it was done by Nerua, it was demaunded by the people, approued by you, and accepted by me. Wherefore I prayt the immortall Goddes that it may bee lyked of theyr godheades: for to small purpose auayleth the election of Prynces, if the gods doe not confyrme it: and therefore a man maye knowe hym whych is chosen by the Gods, from him that is elected by men, for the one shal declyne and fal, the other shalbe vpholden and preserued: the choyse of man so vaynely exalted doth bowe and abase, but that which is planted by the gods, although it bee tossed to and fro wyth seuerall Wynds, and receiueth greate aduersitye, and boweth a lyttle, yet the same shall neuer fal. Ye know right wel (most honorable Fathers) that I neuer demaunded the Empyre of Nerua my Soueraigne Lorde, although he broughte me vp and was his Nephew, hauing heard and wel remembring of my Mayster Plutarch, that honour ought rather to bee deserued than procured. Notwithstanding I wyll not deny but ioyfull I was when my Lord Nerua sent me the ensigne of that greate and hygh dignity: and yet I wyll confesse that hauing begon to tast the trauailes and cares which that imperiall state bringeth, I did repent more then a Thousand times for taking vppon mee a charge so great: for Empire and gouernement is of sutch quality that although the honor be mighty, yet the gouernour sustaineth manifold paines and miserable trauailes. O how greatly doth he bind himself, which by gouernment bindeth other! for if hee bee iuste they call hym cruell, if hee bee Pitifull, he is contempned, if liberall, he is esteemed Prodigall, if he keepe or gather together he is counted couetous, if hee be peaceable and quiet, they deeme him for a coward, if he be couragious, he is reputed a quareller, if graue, they will say he is proude, if he be easie to be spoken to, hee is thought to be light or simple, if solitary, they will esteeme him to be an hypocrite, and if he be ioyfull, they will terme hym dissolute: In sutch wise as they wil be contented, and vse better termes to al others what so euer, than towardes him, which gouerneth a common wealth: for to sutch a one they recken the morsels which he eateth, they measure his pases, they note his words, they take heede to his companies, and iudge of his works (many times wrongfully,) they examine and murmure of his pastimes, and attempt to Coniecture hys Thoughtes: consider then the trauayles which bee in gouernement, and the enuy which many times they beare vnto him that ruleth. We may say, that there is no state more sure than that which is furthest of from Enuy. And if a man cannot but wyth great payne gouerne the wyfe which hee hath chosen, the children which he hath begotten, nor the seruaunt which he hath brought vp, hauing them altogether in one house: how is it possible that he can still conserue in peace a whole commonwealth? I praye you tell mee, in whom shall a poore Prince repose his trust, syth that many times hee is most slaundered by theym whom he fauoureth best? Prynces and great Lordes cannot eate without a Garde, cannot sleepe without a watch, cannot speake without espiall, nor walke without some saufety, in sutch wise as they being Lords of al, they be as it were, Prisoners of their owne people. And if we wil beholde somewhat neerely, and consider the seruitude of Princes, and the liberty of Subiectes, we shall finde that he which hath most to doe in the Realme, or beareth greatest swinge, is most subiect to Thraldome. So that if Princes haue authority to geue liberty, they haue no meanes to be free themselues: the gods haue created vs so fre, and euery man desireth to haue hys liberty so mutch at wyll, that a man be he neuer so familiar a freende, or so neare of kin, we rather haue him to be our subiect, than our Lorde and mayster: one man alone commandeth all, and yet it seemeth to him but little: ought we then to marueile, if many be weary to obey one? Wee loue and esteeme our selues so mutch, as I neuer saw any which of his owne good wil would be subiect, ne yet agaynst his will was made a Lord, a Principle by dayly experience proued very true: for the quarrels and warres that be amongs men, are not so mutch for obedience sake, as for rule and commaundment. I say moreouer, that in drinking, eating, clothing, speaking, and louing, al men be of diuers qualities: but to get lyberty, they be all conformable. I haue spoken thus mutch (O Fathers conscript) vpon occasion of mine owne Empire, which I haue taken with good will, albeit afterwards I was sory for the great charge. For the waltering Seas and troublesome gournement be two things agreeable to beholde, and daungerous to proue. Notwithstanding sith it hath pleased the Gods that I should be youre Lord, and you my subiects, I beseech you hartely to vse your obedience, as to your soueraygne lord, in that which shall be right and iust, and to aduertise me like a father, in things that shall seeme vnreasonable. The Consul Rutulus hath sayed mutch vnto mee in your behalfe, and hath saluted me for the people, hee himselfe shall bring aunswere and shal salute you al in my name. The Allobrogians and the inhabitaunts about the riuer Rhene, be at controuersie for the limittes of their countrey, and haue prayed me to be their Arbitrator, which will stay me a little there. I require that this letter may be red within the Senate house, and manifested to the whole people. The Gods preserue you.

An other Letter of the Emperour Traian to the Romayne Senate, contayning how gouerners of Common wealths ought to bee friendes rather to those whych vse traficke, than to them that gather and heape together.

Cocceius Traiane Emperour of the Romaynes to our holy senate health and consolation in the Gods of comfort. The affayres be so manyfolde, and businesse so graue and weighty, which we haue to doe with diuers Countries, that scarce we haue tyme to eate, and space to take anye rest, the Romane Prynces hauing still by auncient custome both lacke of tyme, and commonly want of money. And bicause that they which haue charge of common wealths, to the vttermost of their power ought to be fryends to traficke of marchandise, and enimyes of heapynge treasure together, Prynces haue so many people to please, and so greate numbre of crauers, that if they keepe any thing for them, the same shall rather seeme a spice of theft than of prouidence. To take away an other man’s goodes, truly is a wycked part: but if it bee permitted to take Treasure, better it were to take it out of the Temples, than to defraude the people: for the one is consecrated to the immortall Gods, and the other to the pore commons. I speake this (right honorable fathers) to put you in remembraunce, and also to aduise you, that you take good heede to the goodes of the common wealth, howe they bee dyspended, howe gathered together, howe they bee kepte, and howe they be employed. For ye ought to vnderstand, that the goodes of the Common wealth be committed to you in trust, not to the ende yee shoulde enioy them, but rather by good gouernement to vse them. We do heare that the Walles be ready to fal, the Towers be in decay, and the Temples in great ruine, wherof we be not a lyttle offended, and you ought also to be ashamed, for so mutch as the damages and detryments of the Common wealth, we ought eyther to remedy, or else to lament. Ye haue wrytten vnto mee to know my pleasure, whether the censors, pretors, and ediles should be yearely chosen, and not perpetuall, as hitherto they haue bene: and specyally you say, that the state of the Dictators (which is the greatest and highest dignity in Rome) is onely but for sixe moneths. To that I aunswer, that we are wel contented wyth that aduyse: for not wythout cause and iust reason our predecessours dyd abolyshe the fyrst kynges of Rome, and ordayned, that the Consuls should yearely be chosen in the Common wealthe. Whych was done, in consyderation that hee whych had perpetuall gouernement, many tymes became insolente and proude. And therefore that the charges and offices of the Senate, should be yearely, to auoyde danger, which if they should be perpetual there myght ensue great hurt and damage to the common wealth: for if the Officers beyng yerely chosen, be good, they may be continued: and if they bee euyll, they may be chaunged. And truely the officer, whych knoweth that vpon the end of euery yeare he must be chaunged and examined of his charge, he wyll take good heede to that whych he speaketh, and first of all wil consider what he taketh in hand. The good Marcus Portius was the first that caused the Officers of the Romane Common Wealthe to bee thus visited and corrected. And bycause that these Almayne Warres doe styll increase, by reason that kyng Deceball wyll not as yet bee brought to obedience of the Romanes, but rather goeth about to occupy and winne the Kingdomes of Dacia and Polonia, I shall be forced through the businesse of the wars, (so long continuing) to deuyse and consult here vppon the affayres touchyng the gouernement of the common wealth of Rome. For a lesse euyll it is for a Prynce to be neglygent in matters of Warre, than in the gouernement of the Common Wealth. A Prynce also ought to think, that he is chosen, not to make wars, but to gouerne, not to kyll the Enimies, but to roote out vices, not that he goe in person to inuade or defend his foes, but that he reside and be in the Common Wealth, and not to take away other men’s goodes, but to do iustice in euery man, for so mutch as the Prynce in the warres can fight but for one, and in the publyke wealth he committeth faults against a numbre. Truly it liketh me wel, that from the degree of captaines men be aduaunced to bee emperors, but I think it not good, that emperours do descende to be captains, considering that, that realm shal neuer be in quyet, where the Prince is to gret a warrior. This haue I spoken (fathers conscript) to the intent ye may beleue, that I for my parte if these warres of Almayne were to begin, I being at Rome, it wer impossible that I should be brought vnto the same, for that my principal intent, is to be estemed rather a good gouerner of a common wealth, than a forward captain in the field: nowe then principally I commend vnto you the veneration of the temples, and honor of the gods, bicause kings neuer liue in surety, if the gods be not honored, and the temples serued. The last words which my good lord Nerua wrot vnto me were these: “Honour the Temples, feare the gods, maintein Iustice in thy commonwealth and defend the pore: in so doing thou shalt not be forgotten of thy friend, nor vanquished by thy foe.” I do greatly recommend vnto you the vertues of amity and fraternity, for that you know how in great common wealthes, more hurt and damage do ciuile and neighborly wars bryng vnto the same, than those attempted by the enimies. If parents against parents, and neighbours against neighbours had not begon mutuall hatred and contention, neuer had Demetrius ouerthrowen the Rhodes, neuer had Alexander conquered Thyr, Marcellus Syracusa, Scipio Numantia. I recommend vnto you also the poore people, loue the orphanes and fatherlesse children, support and help the widowes, beware of quarrels and debates amongs you, and the causes of the helplesse se that ye maintaine and defende: bicause the Gods dyd neuer wreake more cruell vengeance vpon any, than vpon those which dyd ill intreate and vse the poore and neady: and many times I haue heard my Lord Nerua say, that the gods neuer shewed themselues so rygorous, as agaynst a mercilesse and vnpitifull people. Semblably, we pray you to be modest of woords, pacient to suffer, and ware in your forme of lyfe. For a great fault it is, and no lesse shame to a Gouerner, that he prayse the people of his common wealth, and gyue them occasion to speake euill of him: and therefore they which haue charge of the common wealth, ought rather to repose trust in their workes, than in theyr woords, for so mutch as the Citizens or common people, do rather fixe theyr iudgement vpon that which they see, than on that which they heare. I would wysh that (touching the affayres appertinent to the Senate) they might not know in you any sparke of ambicion, malice, deceipte, or enuy, to the intent that the iust men might not so mutch complain of the commaunding of the common wealth, as vpon the entertainment and profite of the same. The Empire of the Greeks putting theyr felicity in eloquence, and we in well doing. I speake this (ryght honorable Fathers) to Counsell and Exhorte ye, that when ye be assembled in Senate, ye do not consume tyme in dysputing and holding opinions for the verification of any thynge. For if you will iudge wythout parciality and affection without great disputation, ye may come to reason. I do remember that being at a lesson of Appolonius Thianeus, I heard him say that it was not so expedient that Senators and Emperors should be skilful and wyse, as if they suffred themselues to bee gouerned by those that were of great experience and knowledg: and verely he said truth: for by that meanes he prohibited and forbad them, not to arrest and stand vpon their owne opinion, whereof they ought to be many times suspicious. Lykewyse we recommend vnto you the censores, who haue charge of Iudgement, and the Tribunes, whose office is to attende the affrayes of Common Wealthe, that they bee wyse and learned in the Lawes, expert in the Customes, prouident in Iudgementes, and ware in theyr trade of lyfe: for I say vnto you, that a wyse man is more availeable in gouernement of a common wealth, than a man of ouermutch skyll and experyence. The forme then whych ye shal obserue in matters of Iudgement shall be thus: that in ciuile processe you keepe the law, and in criminall causes to moderate the same, bicause haynous, cruell, and rigorous lawes be rather made to amaze and feare, than to be obserued and kept. When you giue any sentence, ye ought to consider the age of the offendaunt, when, how, wherefore, with whome, in whose presence, in what time, and how longe ago, forsomutch as euery of these thyngs may eyther excuse or condempne: whych you ought to beare and vse towards them in lyke sort as the gods towards vs, who giue vs better helpe and succoure and correct vs lesse than we deserue. That consideration the Iudges ought to haue, bycause the offenders doe rather trespasse the Gods than men: if then they be forgiuen of the gods for offences whych they commit, reason it is that we pardon faultes don by those rather then by our selues. In like maner we commaund you, that if your enimies do you any anoiance or iniury, not incontinently to take reuenge, but rather to dissemble the same, bicause many wrongs be don in the world, which were better to be dissembled than reuenged. Wherin ye shal haue like regard, touching offices in the Senate and Common Wealth, that they be not giuen to ambicious or couetous persons: for there is no Beaste in the World so pestiferous and Venomous, to the Common Wealth, as the Ambicious in commaunding, and the couetous in gathering togither. Other things we let passe for this tyme, vntil we haue intelligence howe these our commaundements be fulfilled. This Letter shal be red in the chyefest place within the Senate, and afterwards pronounced to the people, that they may both know what yee commaunde, and see also what ye doe. The Gods keepe you, whome we pray to preserue our mother the City of Rome, and to send vs good successe in these our Warres.